Stories Untold
by Iamthekoala
Summary: These are the tales of the lesser-known companions.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I'm using this for the Nanowrimo contest. This will be mulichaptered and I'll update often. Each chapter will have a new narrator, and none will be official companions. I'll take ideas for them, though.

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The "Mad man with a box". The "Oncoming Storm." All truly eloquent titles, but there was more than that. Yes, he was mad, loony even. But he might be the sanest person out there. All the grief, all the rage, all the guilt was surely eating him. Yet, the loneliness, the responsibility,the courage had numbed him. He could be level-headed. He was not an oncoming storm. He might have thundered, but he also snow flaked, in both a metaphorical and literal sense. For he was truly the last of his kind, a unique specimen of the universe, but aren't we all? All our lives, all our stories. He showed me that. He showed me many things.

He came in a navy chariot that pulled him along the stars. No, he was the stars. He shone and gave off light which produced new meanings of the world. He bumbled and sashayed, always so sure, yet selfconcious. He had reason to be, of course. There was no use to be in denial. He was a killer. But it was a mere layer, one of the many façades he would use.

You never knew which mask it would be. Shall he be cold and heartless? Shall he be generous and benevolent? Shall he be witty and fast- paced? All were lies. Yes, they had truths, truths anyone could see. But that was what he was. Layers of lies and truths, questions and answers, riddles and mysteries and enigmas all together.

I did not blame him. As a poet by nature, I understood the complexities of man. The dreams that leave you sobbing, gasping for breath, hoping that someone, anyone would please save you from yourself. The icy rush as you watch, sneering at your enemy, knowing that they would want death, but do not deserve it. The numbing loss as you gaze upon your lover knowing that life is but a breath, you cannot save her. He has bared witness to many of these events, slightly altered, but always the same. Always unavoidable, no matter how far he runs.

He can run to the universe and back, his master is his mind, the slave: it also. But no matter the distance, no matter the date, he shall still fall into the many repeated pattern.

It is a wonder, why does he do this? Why does he love to only lose, run to only come back, build to only destroy? Alas, I am but a poet, I shall never know.


	2. Chapter 2

Whooo! Second chapter! Just be warned, this chapter has some purposely bad spelling and bad sentances. Also, I do not own Doctor Who.

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My name is Becca. I am 6 years old. Mrs. Brown made me do this. I have to write about the Doctor. She does not believe in him. She thinks I am "utrly redikulus" she said he was "majinary" and I am too old for this. Why does she think I am lying?

He was real! I saw him! I was at the park with PJ and we were playing house. I as the mom and he was the dad and my doll was the baby. We played all day. We had fun. There was a sound. It was "vworp vworp."

Then there was a box. It was blue. The out was small and the in was big. The Doctor told me it was a "Tardis."

The doctor was nice. He has a big scarf with red and yellow and green and white. I like his scarf. He has curly, big, and brown hair. It was funny.

We went to space. The grass was blue and short. The sky was black. It was scary, then the Doctor held my hand. Then it wasn't so scary. We even talked to an alien. It wasn't green. It looked like me, but it had all grey skin. It was nice. It gave me "pasgette."

We went back to the park. I said bye to the Doctor. He looked sad. He does not like byes. I do not too.


	3. Chapter 3

Third chapter! Three in one night! Again, I do not own Doctor Who.

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I never thought this could be real. The history, the past, the days of old, whatever you want to call it. I never expected this could happen to me. I mean, I obviously knew that something would happen; don't get me wrong. But when a person jumps into a phone box, they expect a few bruises and really cheesy sound effects. They do not expect to fly into a trans- dimensional gash in the literal timeline of the universe. They do not also expect to gain acquaintanceship with a man calling himself "the Doctor."

What type of name is it anyway? As weird as he was, he wouldn't be weird enough to be named that. No one could be that weird. Believe me, I know. He probably not even a real doctor. It seems odd that the one of the only things I would be suspicious of is the legitimacy of his doctor-ness, but what happened was to weird to question. If I tried, I would be doubting my own sanity. Or at least, more than I already do.

To use some already overused tropes, it all started one morning. Blah blah blah, sunshine, blah blah blah, birds. You get the drift. Anyways, I was walking to school. It just started to be noticeably Autumn. I was trying to crunch some of the vibrant sun-crushed orange leaves when I heard it. The humming, run-if-you-want-to-live noise. Of course, at the time that wasn't associated with the noise. The noise kind of just reminded me of dubstep. But any way, this was how I met the Doctor.


End file.
